Life in July was beautiful, all hearts and flowers, so I'm going to enjoy it as long as I can. Life often sends me flowers, but I suspect it's because it knows it's fixing to screw me again. Or maybe it thinks I'm already dead.
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Life has a habit of sneaking up on me. I didn't expect to ever be able to drive again. I didn't expect to drop one-fifth of my body weight. I damn sure did not expect that I might ever wonder if I could again have feelings for someone, and certainly not this soon. That, in a nutshell, was my July.
I also didn't expect to follow the best month in recent memory with one of the worst weeks ever. It's been such a thrill ride, I have to ground myself every so often. But not yet. I'm having too much fun. And it's been too long since I had fun.
If I were down the hall on our partner station, today's WORD would be "symbiotic." (Go ahead and look it up. that's why I linked it.) Oh, what the hell; it's an adjective describing a dependent, not necessarily beneficial, relationship between two entities which simultaneously co-exist. It's what Patterson Hood calls "the duality of the Southern Thing." In this instance, in my life, fun and danger. I'm dangerous when I have fun. When I have fun, I get reckless. In my world, the fun and the danger are intertwined. Leap forward and fall back. Positive and negative. Yin and yang. Jeckyll and Hyde. Dichotemy, symbiosis; these are what you'll find in the double helix building blocks of misterkellys neighborhood.
Country boys like me know about this two-way street. We learn it in infancy, starting from the time Mama first tells us about about the merciful God of salvation and forgiveness, who, by the way, won't think twice about pitching you into the fires of hell to roast for eternity if you don't mind your P's and Q's. Duality of the Southern thing.
So, about the best month... July was incredible. No other way to say it, this was the best month since I began this site. This was one of the best months of my life, ever. As for the first week of August, it was such a disaster that I'm not up to describing it. Suffice to say that I can't write about it without breaking personal confidences. The things which made me sad have nothing to do with my new life nor with my work at the radio station. They're unassociated with anything covered in my blog, so I'll politely decline. I mention it only because it fits with the theme of duality.
It was easy to write about the great things that happened to me in the best month of LIFE 4.0. You can find them farther down the page or in "previous posts" to the right. Months like July make it easy to share my joy with you. Over the past decade, I've become adept at sharing both the good and the bad (duality again). May I look back for a moment at how this all came to pass?
Radio stations usually try to outglitz each other. That's all well and good, and WABX has cool contests and cutting edge technology that dwarfs 'em all. I have a great time every night acting silly and preaching the trinity (rock, loud rock, louder rock) but I like being honest about myself. I don't mind being the butt of the joke if I deserve it, and it's refreshing to have the freedom to throw up my hands and say "I don't understand life, but it must love me because it fucks me every chance it gets."
This goes against all the rules of radio. We are supposed to be Mr. Hip Radio Personality... poised, confident, debonair, with nary a flaw to be seen. Nice work if you can get it. But that's not me.
I realized at an early age, as the old Don Williams song went, that I was smarter than most, and I could learn to talk like the man on The Six O'Clock News. So I did. But look past that, and you'll find that I am what I've always been, a good ol' boy from the hollers of Kentucky, full of piss and vinegar. More days than not, I could use a haircut and a bath. And I plead guilty to a fascination with certain round parts of the female anatomy. But I was brought up right, in a loving, God-fearing home. I've been baptized twice. I've been in prison twice. I'm a redneck and a shit kicker, as well as a gentleman and a scholar. Once again, the duality of the Southern thing rears its heads.
I'm being who I am, even given the duality of my own nature. I have nights when I quote Scripture, then play "Shelter Me" by Cinderella, and start riffing about the virtues of a wet t-shirt. (If you've seen the video, you'll know what I mean. If not, good, because that means you don't watch TV, and you listen to the radio. Good for you. Watching TV when I'm on the air will cause you to burn in hell. Back to the Scripture quotations. It's the... say it with me.. it's the duality of the Southern Thing)
So rather than being Mr. Cool Radio personality, I began to share dreams and failures with you. After my wife Roxanne died almost two years ago, I took the final step, and launched this blog. I continued to speak of the dreams and failures -- now unfiltered. I could, and did, talk of setbacks, fears, thoughts of suicide, and my rampant insecurities which pre-dated Roxanne.
I told of my lack of willpower and abundance of "don't give a damn" which allowed me to swell past 550 pounds, and of of the realization that I was headed for the edge, acting as if I wanted to die.
Readers and listeners learned I had no license to drive -- hadn't had one since back in 19-mumble-mumble-harrumph -- but continuted to drive anyway. I finally stopped when the forces of Karma, and my best friends, took a stand, and threatened to get some long shears and start chopping at a certain body part. (That's just too much of a risk. It's just a damn water pump at the moment, but I do have hope for the future.)
On my blog, and on the air, I pressed ahead to rebuild myself. I spoke of the realization that I was headed for the edge, acting as if I wanted to die. And while I did not particularly want to die I'd not have been sad. I miss my parents something awful. And Roxanne waits for me. (At least hope to God she does. LIFE 4.0 is bad enough with her; I don't want to think about being alone through eternity. Please be patient, pila moya; I'm trying to hurry.)
I spoke about my quiet, safe place where I hid from the real world, wrapped in my cocoon, sheltered from any need for emotions other then lonilieness and confusion. Survival. That's all I was capable of achieving. That's no way to live. Seems so obvious now, but without my inner circle, I'd never have realized it.
I'm blessed enough to have a great circle of people who look after me. When I wrote the post about the pills which I was saving for a quick exit, should I need one, my friend Kat threatened to place her foot firmly in my tailfeathers. (Think about it. If I don't fear death, why would I get scared of a foot up my ass? But I do.)
I've often mentioned my best friend Cathy and her husband Lew. They're without parallel in my live. I would likely have died without them. That's not an exaggeration. At one low point of my health, Cathy made me go to the doctor so he could look at the swelling in my legs. He was so concerned about what he saw, he put me in the hospital at once. It's scary to think where I might be had she not been so diligent. It takes a special kind of friend to pull you up from the brink of disaster when you're stopped giving a damn about yourself. My friend Kristi, who knows us both, has told me she's amazed how much Cathy's done for me. She's not alone there; I'm amazed, too.
And Kristi... Oh, there is so much in her soul and in her baggage which is akin to mine. She looks out for me by sending me diet and excercise tips, and by making me feel useful. She always brings a fresh perspective to whatever I'm obsessed with at the time. I've leaned on her hard since Roxanne's death, far more than I've had the right to. There's nothing I'm afraid to tell her. (She and Cathy are the only people in the world I can say that about... and, my friends, I hope you both realize what a great compliment that is to each of you.) My friend Todd could be my bartender, considering the hours he's spent past midnight listening to me. Rob is quickly qualifying in the department, too. See? I do have some friends who aren't women.
They make me feel it's important to stay around. That is not easy job. Once the emotions start snowballing, I become convinced that I've overstayed my time in this world. Again, I lean on someone in my inner circle. Sean Roberts, who preceeds me on the air on WABX, hit the nail on the head when he asked me "Don't you want to see what's waiting around the bend?"
Smart guy, that Sean.
From one day to the next, the change is unnoticeable. Gradually, I came to realize that my cycle of euphoria and depression is the same one everyone goes thorough. My endurance increased. I lost weight, LOTS of weight. My efforts to drive again, which I estimated at a five percent chance, came full circle in July. I can now drive legally for the first time in twenty years. Most astonishing of all I was blindsided by a fascinating woman. (Let's call her "Just Friends", as explained in my previous post.)I wasn't ready for that. I'm still not ready; neither is she, which is exactly where we leave things as the best month yet comes to an end.
So where am I in August of 2011? I'm better. I'm gone from desperation to survival to living. I've lost almost a hundred pounds in the last six months. I've unearthed enough confidence to begin displaying a real photo of myself on my Facebook avitar. I have gone from crying on my pillow every night to crying on my pillow every night -- I'm still working on that one. I have new friends who respect me. They believe in me; I had better not let them down, and you know, I really don't think I will. I am actually starting to like myself. That's been a long time in coming. And I'm not really upset that so many of the sentences in this post begin with "I."
I still have so far to go, and so much to deal with. Living publicly in cyberspace has plenty of drawbacks. I have to be careful not to violate privacy. It would be easy to get people in hot water. Thus, some things remain unwritten, so as not to cause pain. When Just Friends came into my life, I had the new-media verson of The Conversation. "Here's what you're in for," I warned. To my delight, she was cool with it. "No one's ever blogged about me before," she said. I hope it wasn't just optomism that made me see a gleam of flattery in her eye. Still, we remain Just Friends. More on that later.
And, the one good thing which came about this week, I finished the last court appearance and the last payment associated with my driver's license. The final curtain call in a twenty-year chapter of my life.
Now that things are above board in the legal sense, I can get on with the things I intended when I began LIFE 4.0. So how is it going? Nothing new with Just Friends. We're still friends, which is fine with me. That's exactly where things should stand. I wanted more in my life; now I have more in my life. No grounds for disappointment there. I am fuller and richer, and I love her for that. But as I said we're friends, and that's the best thing.
I know I'm riding a major infatuation, but I've never believed infautation is a bad thing, as long as all parties recognize it for what it is. It's a way to feel happiness, satisfaction, a conduit to action. I welcome anything which makes my path easier. I'd forgotten how much fun a knot in your stomach can be. I try not to think for the long term. I am a patient man. Maybe someday love will take root. I really doubt it, but that doubt alone is no longer reason enough to let it pass me by. Happy ever after? I doubt it. I'm not being negative; I am being honest. The number seven has always been special for me, so I'll give love about a seven percent chance. But I gave myself a five percent chance of getting my license, and yet here I am, tooling down the Lloyd, blasting the Drive-By Truckers, and singing off-key "...ain't about the races, the crying shame. To the fucking rich man all poor people look the same..." Such is the duality of the Southern Thing.
Cathy reminded me yesterday of something I often say, that I am a freak show. It's an honest comment, if not a flattering one. I like to think, in keeping with today's theme of duality, that there is a gem of a man inside this container, if he can just climb over the bullshit. I've been wavering around 500 pounds for a few years now. Clothing that large is expensive. Even basic hygiene is difficult, given that a year ago, I could barely stand for five minutes. Many people, many good people, can not look past the freak show to find what's underneath. Shit, many people I see every day can't do it. I made my peace with that long ago, but it still gets disheartening somtimes.
The flip side of that is that every so often, I come across a beautiful soul who does indeed look past the wrapping. That happens too seldom, but it did happen a few weeks ago, and that, my friends, was the best part of the best month. Once again, the duality of the Southern thing comes into play, because I am both overjoyed and saddened. I'm joyous that she has risen above human nature to see past the freak show. And I'm ashamed that I was worried that she wouldn't, and that I could so underestimate her strength of character. I should have know she would choose the righteous path. I'll bet she even got the "African Queen" reference in this paragraph. As to the Drive-By Truckers reference, well, there'll be time to learn.
At least, I hope there's time. I really do. It used to be I'd go to bed hoping I would die in my sleep. That doesn't happen very often now. That is real progress.
Today's lesson? As the white lines on the Lloyd fly past and the hot August wind blows against me, I reflect on the best month, and on how my life is now defined. It's not the life I want, nor the life I expected. I've come to accept over the past 22 months that the life I dream of is forever gone. But I have a good life. It's a life I can love. Damn, that's been a long time in coming.
And Sean, buddy, you're right. I do want to see what's around the bend. I do believe it'll be something wonderful.
StevenK
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